


maybe

by acnaib



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, side kagehina
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:51:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acnaib/pseuds/acnaib
Summary: “Did I act weird today?” Yamaguchi stares through him. He thinks that if there would have been any wind, he would fade away. Particle after particle, away from here and now.“Maybe.” He can hear both of their breathing, and it sounds suspiciously a lot like music. Kei wants to do this, it feels important, significant. “Did I?”“Maybe.” Yamaguchi smiles when he answers, but it’s different. It’s still lopsided, and still perfect, but it’s laced with something Kei doesn’t know the name of.





	1. fragile

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first published work, it's ongoing, i don't have a beta nor did i check this too carefully, i just think that publishing something will make me write more  
> constructive criticism is wanted&needed&appreciated  
> i love my sons and as i was finishing this i found out that kei means firefly which is cute  
> please let me know what you think and leave kudos!!

The math class is boring, as always. The hot summer weather waits patiently, it lures Kei from the other side of the window, breaking his focus one bizarrely-shaped cloud at a time. The teacher is in front of the class, at the blackboard, solving a problem whose question involves single digits, but who seems to require ridiculous exponents. Although Kei wears glasses so he can see what's written on the board, the boredom he's drowning in numbs the razor-sharp chicken scratch of his teacher. He just doesn't feel like doing math, or anything, right now. 

He glances briefly to his right, where he sees Yamaguchi writing like there's no tomorrow, looking completely immersed in the problem. He can only wonder how. He knows that math is his best friend’s strongest suit, but he can’t begin to fathom how concentrated he must be right now. Yamaguchi is writing down numbers faster than some people can run, and when he catches a glimpse of his eyes, he notices how sharp his gaze is. Out of curiosity, Kei looks up at the blackboard one more time. The exponents turned into fractions somehow. Exercises like this one will probably be on the test, but he can’t be bothered to care. He feels a drop of sweat fall from his forehead, onto his notebook, and he hardly holds in a sigh. This is _boring_. 

The plain, black and white clock counts minutes as seconds, and his hair is getting in his way, and the faint sound of pencils on paper acts like a lullaby that could put Kei to sleep right here, right now. He tries not to fall asleep in class, but only for posterity. He isn’t Hinata or Kageyama, he _is_ able to behave properly in a classroom. He looks at Yamaguchi again, and tries to analyze him in the way that stuck-up, kind of ugly British detective from the show his friend likes so much does. That’s something they do together on the train, trying to guess as many things about strangers as they can. Kei practically _scans_ him, but he can’t focus on anything that requires brainpower right now, so he gives in to his inner idiot and closes his eyes. 

It feels _good_ , but even holding his head up like this feels like too much work. He leans his head on the desk, and _by God, if Kei won’t fall asleep in the count of five._ He opens his eyes to make sure nobody saw him, and he makes himself comfortable. He’s facing right, and the image of Yamaguchi still writing makes him try to keep his eyes open a little more. He holds his gaze on Yamaguchi’s freckles, that stand out a lot more during summer. He always thought they’re really pretty, but vocalizing this thought doesn’t feel like a good idea, sometimes. He blinks, and he finds that his eyes won’t open again. The darkness behind his eyelids feels too much like the blanket he sleeps with and he drifts out. 

Noise drags him back to reality after what he considers to be the best nap of his life. He can hear something about volleyball and, _oh_ , he still has practice, but he won't open his eyes. He’s gonna milk the only time he fell asleep in class for all it’s worth, because he does _not_ want this to happen again. 

"... come on, we’ll be late, wake up," the other person says, as they lightly shake his arm. Kei believes that this person is committing blasphemy against good naps right now, but, much to his distaste, he finds himself having trouble with going back to sleep. 

"Tsukki, come on, wake up, open your eyes," realizing who's the intruder, he at least makes an effort and cracks his eyes open. 

The brightest light he’s ever seen burns into his retinas. He scrunches his eyes shut and tries again. He can see a little more clearly now, and he can see that the bright light comes from Yamaguchi’s phone. He raises his gaze to Yamaguchi, who’s standing in front of him, and scowls. His friend smirks, and Kei wonders briefly just how do all the others not see this side of him. They all call him, the passive-aggressive bystander, an asshole, when the world's biggest asshole was actually under their noses all along. 

“Why are you shoving the flashlight into my eyes?” He extends an arm towards the phone and makes a vague motion that’s supposed to mean _turn it off_. Yamaguchi gets the message and taps once on his phone. The light stops, and Kei relaxes his face. He blinks slowly once, and does not take for granted the way his eyes don’t hurt when he opens them. He resumes staring at Yamaguchi, but his friend simply shrugs. 

“I don’t really use the flashlight, y’know? I didn’t want it to feel sad and lonely.” 

Yamaguchi is his best friend, but every now and then, Kei wishes looks could kill. 

“Now get up, I don’t wanna be late! I already packed your things, you’re welcome.” He seems fidgety, in the way that he plays with the hem of his shirt and can’t stand still. Yamaguchi really likes volleyball, and he really wants to go to practice. Kei only recently started getting over the whole _‘It’s just a club’_ thing, so he’s making baby steps. But he’d lie if he’d say that seeing his best friend so excited doesn’t fire him up at all. 

"Thanks, mom,” Kei deadpans. 

“You’re welcome, son.” 

“Yamaguchi, shut up." 

“Sorry, Tsukki. Now get up, get up!” 

Kei stands up and stretches his neck. He has the feeling of someone’s eyes on him, but he and Yamaguchi are the only people left in the classroom. He glances quickly at his friend, who apparently caught a sudden interest in the wall opposite to him. Faint pink dusts his cheeks. In combination with the freckles, Kei thinks that his face looks nice right now. A smile threatens to show, but he bites it down. 

He takes his schoolbag and leaves the room. It looks clean, and Kei wonders if their classmates cleaned up while he was sleeping. 

They head to the gym, and Yamaguchi starts telling him how the teacher considered ending the class sooner, so he could sleep peacefully. 

“Everyone was surprised, seeing _you_ sleep.” Kei’s face feels hot, but it’s probably because of the heat. He avoids his friend’s gaze for good measure. “I mean, you always look bored, but they’ve all figured that that’s your normal face. I think Sakakibara took photos. I know I did.” Yamaguchi smirks slyly, and shows him a photo of him, asleep, with his mouth open, drooling a little on his arm. His glasses are askew, and his hair is messy. This was a moment of weakness, a crack in his always-cool façade. He doesn’t think his classmates will do anything other than tease him a little tomorrow, but for some reason, knowing that Yamaguchi has photos of him sleeping makes his stomach stir. 

“If anyone else sees those, _especially_ anyone from the team, you’d better start expecting every single shitty photo of you being distributed school-wide, as an album. ‘ _Yamaguchi Tadashi, best moments’_. I’ll even make sure people from other teams will receive a copy, so you won’t have any hopes of transferring.” Yamaguchi laughs, and his voice carries across the empty school. His laugh reminds Kei of windchimes. 

“Thank you, my dear best friend. I’ll be sure to remember all of this on your birthday, which is earlier than mine. Hey, do you think the bakery does custom cakes? Maybe cakes with photos on them? Hmm, I should check someday.” He likes their effortless banter. He likes the way their sense of humor has, gradually, become one and the same. They get out of the building, and the heat engulfs them. Under the horrible end-of-August sun, Yamaguchi looks golden. Kei allows himself to smile. 

“Yamaguchi, shut up." 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” 

The boys arrive at the clubroom, and, unfortunately, Hinata and Kageyama are still there. They’re almost done with changing their clothes, and Kei thinks that they would be done faster ( _which means that they would be out of his hair faster_ ), if they wouldn’t argue so much. For every word Hinata says, Kageyama hits him. For every word Kageyama says, Hinata does something stupid, like taking his tongue out or flipping him off. They only have to change their shoes and to pack their other clothes, but at this rate, the other two first-years might just be done before them. 

However, the weird duo going back and forth like that at least means that things are back to normal between them, which is good for the mental health of the team. He can only classify what happened before and during the Tokyo summer camp a lovers’ quarrel. Everyone knows that it’s only a matter of time before the two idiots end up in a sickly-sweet relationship. (If Hinata is this touchy with friends, he can only imagine how he will be with his poor, seemingly touch-averse, future boyfriend Kageyama. Kei has a sweet tooth, but thinking about them makes him want to hate sugar.) He’s pretty sure Sugawara-san organized a bet on this, somehow, even under Sawamura-san’s watchful eyes. Maybe he’s in on it too. If he was to bet on it (which he _wasn’t_ ), he would’ve bet on the summer camp. Especially after they stopped fighting. They were clinging to one another like leeches, it was ridiculous. Peak ridiculousness was achieved at the barbecue, where Hinata burnt his fingers a little, and insisted that he couldn’t use chopsticks, and that Kageyama should feed him, because if he won’t eat enough, then he won’t be enough competition for the setter. Kageyama, to the surprise of no one, agreed. Hinata could, apparently, play volleyball with his ‘burnt’ fingers, but that was neither here nor there. 

Kei’s train of thought is stopped by the short boy, who points a finger at him and starts chuckling. 

“Hi, Sleepyshima-kun!” Kei feels his blood freeze, because he will _not_ be teased by people who are known as the weird duo, but keeps getting out of his uniform as normal, fueled only by spite. He will _not_ be teased by the weird duo. “Hey, Kageyama, did you know Tsukishima fell asleep in his math class today?” He didn’t have to face Kageyama to know that he was ‘smiling’ when he heard. “Just like you!” Hinata pauses, and Kei feels (half)naked and afraid. “Hey, you and Tsukishima have something in common! You both drool when you sleep!” 

That’s the last drop. While shirtless, Kei turns around and spots Hinata, who’s showing the setter something on his phone. He lunges for the phone, and his sleeping face is on the screen. Extremely unfortunately, Kageyama already saw, and is trying (failing) to hide his laughter. It feels like every person in the small clubroom is laughing at him, and that makes him flush. He’s scowling while deleting the photos from Hinata’s phone, and he takes note of who sent them. He adds ‘being intimidating around Akabane’s desk tomorrow’ on his schedule. He hands the shrimp his phone, his ears ringing from the adrenaline of an averted disaster. If Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san ever saw that, he would’ve considered dropping volleyball. He channels any trace of anger into his gaze as he towers over Hinata. 

“Don’t compare me to your idiot boyfriend again.” He doesn’t miss the blush on their faces, before he turns and puts his practice t-shirt on. 

“Or what, Nappyshima-kun?” Even if he was threatened by a 190 centimeters-tall person, Hinata’s voice was still bright and carried echoes of laughter. Kei feels his eyebrows draw in automatically, and opens his mouth to answer, but he blanks out. 

What _can_ he threaten Hinata with? 

He’s really not as bad as everyone makes him out to be, he wouldn’t resort to physical violence over stupid Hinata. And even if he would, he saw Kageyama shirtless more than once. Hinata’s not defenseless and Kei doesn’t have a death wish. He looks at Yamaguchi meaningfully, because Yamaguchi is one of the people he would trust with his life when it comes to comebacks. His hazel eyes shine and he fakes a worried look. 

“You wouldn’t… Tsukki, you wouldn’t! You monster! You wouldn’t teach them wrong English if they ever come to you for help, would you?” Kei has to stop his mouth from opening from surprise. He wouldn’t have thought of something like that on such short notice. Yamaguchi’s voice was pretty convincing, and he finds himself watching Hinata and his high-spec boyfriend come to a halt. He looks at his friend one more time, because _really?_ He reads horror in his eyes, because _apparently_ he wanted to have some more fun. “Oh my God, Tsukki! You _already_ taught them wrong English?” All color fades from Hinata. “How could you?” He sees Yamaguchi bite a smirk and he has to bite into a smile. Hinata babbles nervously in the background about keeping this between them, because _'Who knows when we’re gonna need his help, Kageyama? Back me up!’_ , but it falls on deaf ears.  


“Yamaguchi, shut up.” 

He swears Yamaguchi winks at him. 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” 

Practice came and went, and Sawamura-san declared that it’s the first years’ turn to do the clean-up. The lovebirds wanted to stay behind and practice anyway, so after pretending to put some balls in the basket, Kei and Yamaguchi head alone to the clubroom. The sun is setting, and the sky is dusty pink. The scorching heat left with the sun, leaving behind cool breezes and comfortable temperatures. They go up the stairs and, out of nowhere, Yamaguchi trips. If Kei wouldn’t have reacted, he would have fell back first. His friend’s eyes bulge out in surprise, and then they dart to their linked hands. A small smile brightens up his face, and a blush settles on his cheeks. He looks at Kei with an unreadable expression. 

“You got me.” 

This time, it’s Kei’s turn to blush as he helps Yamaguchi get back on his feet. He avoids his eyes, but doesn’t let go of his hand. 

“I got you.” 

They continue walking to the clubroom in silence. The moment feels fragile, and Kei almost doesn’t want to reach their destination and end it. Yamaguchi’s hand is warm in his. If he focuses, he can feel his friend’s heartbeat through it. He risks glancing at him. It makes his pulse quicken, but it feels exhilarating. He’s staring back, and they stop moving. They’re holding hands, and looking in each other’s eyes, and the sunset’s color scheme is nothing compared to Yamaguchi’s, and something pulls Kei closer, closer to his eyes, to his freckles, to his lips. His face heats up, but he can’t stop doing _whatever this is_. His breathing is erratic, his brain reduced to a blank. They’re almost touching noses, and Kei feels like he’s putting the final piece in a very difficult puzzle. 

Yamaguchi leans his forehead on Kei’s, expression unreadable. Kei doesn’t know what will happen, now that their noses touch, which he knows that is called an _Eskimo kiss_ , and _oh._ Everything is strange, but feels so, _so_ good, and he closes his eyes. 

“Chikara, if I won’t be the ace next year, you’re gonna watch me transfer!” 

A door bursts open, making a lot of noise. The spell is broken, and Yamaguchi practically _jumps_ away from him, running to the clubroom. Kei is left standing alone, dumbfounded, the phantom feeling of _whatever that was_ dissolving into the air. He scowls and straightens his back. His stomach is deflating inside of him, but he’s not going to ruin what he has with his best friend by bringing this up again. He walks into the clubroom, hoping to look calm and composed as ever. 

“Pardon the intrusion,” he lets out, as he tries to make his way through the bulk of the volleyball team, who’s still here. Tanaka-san is pestering Ennoshita-san about next year’s regulars, and Nishinoya-san is clinging to Ennoshita-san’s leg, mumbling something about vice-captains. Azumane-san is combing his hair, and the other second-years, Kinoshita-san and Narita-san look through the senior’s schoolbag and argue about which hair accessory is better. Sawamura-san is simply changing his clothes, and Sugawara-san is staring him dead in the eye. His gaze is piercing, and Kei looks away, embarrassed. He notices that behind the vice-captain is Yamaguchi, who seems to have moved his things to that corner of the room, and is unpacking something from his practice bag dutifully. 

Nobody bothers him while he’s getting dressed, and it’s for the best, because the realization that hit him _then_ still makes his blood boil. He can’t take his mind off what almost happened back there. As a consequence of _that_ , he finds that he can’t look at his friend yet, or even think about him, without butterflies being released in his stomach. He’s done and out in the blink of an eye, and feels watched when he leaves the room. 

He still waits after Yamaguchi, though, because friends are friends, and they always walk home together. If they didn’t do that today, maybe some of their teammates would figure out that something happened, which is a worst-case scenario. He leans on _Karasuno Prefectural High School_ ’s front gate, scrolling idly through the photos on his phone. Many of them feature his freckled best friend. Looking at Yamaguchi’s lopsided, _perfect_ smile makes him want to smile, too. His eyes always look so pretty. And his voice is so nice, especially when they joke around. (Kei is sure nobody knows this, but Yamaguchi always wants to have the last word, hence his eternal _‘Sorry, Tsukki.’_. People treat it as some sort of admission of submission, because of the ‘sorry’, but he knows better.) 

He’s probably not going to get any good sleep tonight, courtesy of over-thinking ( _boy, will his brain have a field day),_ but he still wants to evaluate what his feelings on the matter are and what all of _that_ awoke in him. He looks in picture-Yamaguchi’s eyes again, and he feels, he _knows_ that something is different, but it’s future Kei’s problem. Present Kei’s problem is to keep a neutral face when a figure approaches him. He sees a familiar piece of hair sticking upwards, and relaxes for a second. After that, he remembers Yamaguchi’s flushed face contrasting with the sky, and all hope of acting normal is gone. One of today’s last sunrays hits his glasses, and he wants to block the light with his hand, but he forgot he was _leaning_ on the gate, and he’s close enough to make out his freckles, and Kei is falling to the ground, like a fool. 

Yamaguchi’s expression is tainted with worry, as he runs towards Kei. 

“Tsukki! What happened?” He lends him a hand, to help him get back up. What’s most definitely a part of his _imagination_ screams in his mind that his friend’s hand lingered on his. (Yamaguchi took his hand back as soon as Kei was back at towering over everyone. _It_ doesn’t happen now.) He dusts his thighs and calves, and turns back to his companion, who’s holding his glasses. When did he take them from the ground? His features melt in an effortless frown. He takes his glasses from his friend, and pretends that he didn’t catch fire when their fingers touched. They start walking. 

“The sun happened.” In the exact second the words leave his mouth, he realizes the unintentional double entendre. Well, Hinata happened now too. He hopes that the short boy sneezes during a spike, or something inconvenient like that. Yamaguchi laughs freely. Kei can’t look. Kei can’t look _away._

“Yes, Hinata _did_ happen today. Great job, Tsukki.” He opens his mouth to retort, but his friend rolls his eyes, “Yamaguchi, shut up,” he says, with what’s supposed to be an impression of his voice. His eyelids hood his eyes, in an attempt to imitate him. It’s just a joke, but _is this how he sees him? A tall, squinty-eyed, monotone-voiced prick?_ His stomach somersaults, but he can’t back out, not after being called out like this. 

“ _Tadashi, shut up.”_ He likes to imagine he’s staring into Yamaguchi’s soul, berating him for disrupting the balance of their ‘Shut up/Sorry’ dynamic. The fact that he called him by his given name, while fixating on his eyes registers a little later. He feels himself blush, and he forces himself to look away. He allows a few seconds of silence in their conversation, as he waits for a response. One that involves a certain three-letter word is ideal. 

“Sorry, Tsuk- _Kei_.” He stumbles on the words, but he says them anyway. His given name sounds so appealing when said by Yamaguchi. _So_ appealing, that it takes everything in him not to let his knees buckle to the floor. The saying ‘Be careful what you wish for’ floats through his mind, written in squiggly kanji. Kei simply grips his schoolbag a little tighter and hopes for the best. 

Around them, the streetlights already light the deserted road. Some crickets dick around in the grass, and the first stars have made their appearance on the vibrant sky. All that’s left from the sun is a small, bright sliver, and its warm light keeps getting in his face. Yamaguchi doesn’t seem to mind, but that might be because he must’ve been made to live under the sun. He’s _golden_ , and how did this escape Kei until now? His best friend in the whole wide world looks _breathtaking_ , with his tan skin and his constellations of freckles and his ivory smile. A gust of wind messes their hair up, and he’s pretty sure that if his knees didn’t give in until now, this is it. Yamaguchi’s soft, fluffy, brown hair floats behind his head, kind of like a superhero’s cape. He bites his lip to cope, and exerts unimaginable effort when he manages to tune Yamaguchi’s siren song out and look away. He’s probably blushing again. He sighs. 

“Uh, Tsukki, do you wanna listen to music? I brought my earphones today, so you don’t have to worry about me. You look a little off…” All he can manage to give as an answer is a grunt, and he puts his big, noise-cancelling, _world-cancelling_ headphones on. They’re already plugged in, because he’s thoughtful like that. By his side, Yamaguchi puts his earphones in his ears, and scrolls through his phone. Soon enough, music pours into Kei, and his heartrate returns to normal for the first time since the clubroom. 

All the pretty-sounding instruments fog his mind, but that’s all he needs, because before he knows it, he’s on his street, and Yamaguchi shakes his shoulder to get his attention. His friend’s hand feels like a brand through his clothes, but he complies and slides his headphones off. 

The sky is darker, and the moon rose. Today’s a new moon, and he feels like Yamaguchi would have laughed at that. _A new Tsukki._ He turns to face him. The night’s silver fits him well, too. He notices that they’re standing close to one another, and that Yamaguchi’s hand is still on his shoulder. Kei doesn’t lean in. 

Silence reigns around them. Kei’s heart is lifting weights, and failing. 

“Did I act weird today?” Yamaguchi stares through him. He thinks that if there would have been any wind, he would fade away. Particle after particle, away from here and now. 

“Maybe.” He can hear both of their breathing, and it sounds suspiciously a lot like music. Kei wants to do this, it feels important, _significant_. “Did I?” 

“Maybe.” Yamaguchi smiles when he answers, but it’s different. It’s still lopsided, and still _perfect_ , but it’s laced with something Kei doesn’t know the name of. 

He feels like he’s running out of time, even though nobody called him home. Yamaguchi seems to pick up on this. They share one last deep look in each other’s eyes, before his friend smiles brightly and walks away. Kei can’t physically stop himself from watching Yamaguchi’s figure as he leaves his street. He turns around and heads to his house after the familiar figure vanished into the night. 


	2. aware

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> big thanks for everyone who left kudos on the 1st chapter!!!!!!!!!! thank you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> here is part 2, where i was inspired by the ton of fic i read yesterday  
> the constructive criticism thing still stands  
> i hope you enjoy!

“So, little brother, what was all that about?” 

Akiteru should seriously start _minding his own business_ every now and then. Yes, they’re back to being on speaking terms and all, but that doesn’t mean spying on Kei is acceptable. His eyes crunch up involuntarily. His only two facial expressions of the day are scowls and blushing, _apparently_. He takes his shoes off and puts on his house slippers. 

He’s gonna avoid him and not have to answer any of his stupid questions until tomorrow. He’s gonna run for it. 

“You know, the whole _‘Yamaguchi staring deeply into your eyes, and you, showing emotion on your face’_ thing.” His frown deepens, but he will not give in. The last thing he needs is his brother, doing something stupid. He won’t even come up with an example, because he doesn’t like tempting fate. He’s so close to the stairs, to freedom. He picks up the pace a little. 

“I’m sorry, but I have practice in the morning, and if I want to grow even stronger, I have to sleep well. Tell mom and dad I’m not coming to dinner because the captain bought us meat buns.” Akiteru sees right through his manners shtick, and blocks his way. He’s tall, but Akiteru is even taller, and there’s a smile on his face that can only mean trouble. 

“Kei, cut the crap. Let’s make a deal; you and I go to the store, buy some food, _because there’s no way in hell you already ate_ , and you’ll tell me what happened in the car. You will not suffer through mom and dad’s third degree about today, and I, your mature _“ -_ Kei huffs- “ _experienced_ older brother will help you with your problem. How’s that?” 

He weighs the options in his mind. Mom and dad just love talking and listening and _asking questions_ at dinner, so getting away from that is welcome. He’ll eat, which is cool. But, telling his brother about _that_ will make it real, and not just some sort of hallucination that he and Yamaguchi share. Their last conversation left him dazed though, and maybe he _does_ need a second opinion. He looks up at Akiteru. Regardless of everything that happened between them, he still is his older brother, and he loves him. He rolls his eyes, sighs reluctantly and takes off his slippers. Akiteru lights up. 

“Great! I’ll go tell them and you can wait for me by the car.” 

He puts his outside shoes again and is ready to get out of the house when he passes by the mirror. His mom put a mirror close to the front door so she could check her appearance right before leaving. He looks at his reflection. A blonde boy with what Tanaka-san called a _resting bitch face_ stares back at him, through his glasses. Nothing about today is showing. There’s no pink on his cheeks, no strange look in his eyes, no nothing. He tilts his head and thinks about how he must have looked at the clubroom, in front of Yamaguchi and his tan complexion, and his cute freckles, and his- 

His pupils are dilating. Kei gulps and pretends to not know why. 

Akiteru’s car is, for the lack of a better term, old. It has no air conditioning, the windows open with a crank, and there are so many stains on the back seat that it kind of looks like a strange, unsanitary mosaic. But it has a working radio, and all of their family’s CDs, and riding shotgun at night gives him a feeling not a lot of things can. 

He’s chewing on his meat bun, twirling the filling around his mouth, and he’s listening to the music his brother picked. It sounds like the music he heard blaring from his room when he was a teenager, the one about hearts, lies and friends. His English is decent, and if the singer would have put a little more value on comprehensibility, maybe he could have understood the lyrics now. The stars and the new moon (Kei’s stomach does a backflip, but he continues eating) are visible from the windshield, and the streetlights light their road around town. Both his and Akiteru’s windows are down, and the breeze is cool on his skin. This feels so much like the summers he sees in movies. 

They stop in an empty parking lot near a park. Kei’s meat bun is (sadly) finished, and Akiteru’s staring expectantly at him. He’s turned down the music’s volume, letting it melt with the crickets and the cicadas and the sound of summer nights. There’s a kind smile on his brother’s face, and Kei takes a deep breath. 

“I think Yamaguchi...” This is real now. He’s dragging it kicking and screaming into reality. The small pause digs into him like a brick. He breathes in again. “ _I think Yamaguchi wanted to kiss me_.” 

Akiteru’s poker face is unbelievable. He can read nothing other than slight shock. He remembers how he lied to everyone about being on the volleyball team all that time. Dread flows through his veins. 

“And you…” He trails off, letting him continue the sentence. Kei looks at the stars, and at the dark circle of the moon. A strange feeling in his chest makes him smile. 

“I think I did too.” 

The moment is extremely tense. He controls his breathing, afraid of ruining it somehow. He doesn’t look at Akiteru, because he can’t. Luckily, he doesn’t need to. 

“ _Finally!_ Oh my god, Kei, it took you _so_ long!” His brother lets a relieved breath out, and Kei is getting confused. “Glad to know _that_ ’s out of the way now!” He extends a hand to turn up the music, but Kei stops him. 

“Uh… what do you mean… by… _that_?” 

His brother looks at him like he just said that the Earth is flat. Where is all of Akiteru’s confidence coming from? 

“You,” he points at him, “like,” he points a little to his right, where his friend usually is, “ _Yamaguchi._ ” He brings his two index fingers together.”And by like, I mean _like-_ like.” 

Tsukishima Kei is an idiot. An idiot whose idiocy rivals Hinata and Kageyama’s. Everything makes perfect sense now. Why touching Yamaguchi makes him feel warm all over, why he honestly thought that Yamaguchi should win awards for his face, why _almost kissing him felt like a puzzle being completed._ He groans at the realization, and hides his head with his arms. His cheeks are hot, and that makes him groan even more. Next to him, Akiteru is giggling. 

“You _didn’t know_ what wanting to _kiss_ someone means? This is too good-“ 

“ _Of course I know what that means!_ ” Kei snaps, his voice not being monotone, for once. When Akiteru sees his blush, his eyes widen like saucers. Everything about this is embarrassing, and he frowns as he turns up the music, in hopes of blocking his brother’s laughing fit. The guitars sound cheesy, and he can actually make out something the singer says, for once. The song seems to mock him for being stupid, too. 

( _I set my clocks early, ‘cause I know I’m always late)_

He’s about to enter his room, to change into his pajamas and sleep ( _over-think_ ) after a hard day, when Akiteru grabs his attention. He’s wearing the smile that will probably make him such a good psychologist when he will graduate college, one that makes you feel like he really cares about you and your problems. 

“I know realizing something this big is scary, especially because he’s your best friend, and you feel like you might ruin that,” ( _‘understatement of the year’,_ Kei’s mind ever-so-helpfully supplies) “but... Try talking to him upfront about this. From what you said, I think he feels the same way.” 

He nods solemnly, but shuts the door in his face. Damn Akiteru and his psychology degree. Kei is going to express his feelings for Yamaguchi _upfront_ when hell freezes over. That’s his _only friend_ he’s got a crush on. He’s not going to ruin the best thing in his life for what could very well be some sort of hormone imbalance-induced whim. 

The back of his head touches the pillow and drowsiness overtakes him. Darkness surrounds him, and Kei wonders if Yamaguchi is going now to sleep, too. 

The alarm violently wakes him up. He feels like a caterpillar who needed just a few more minutes of sleep until it became a butterfly, but the cruel fate (personified by his alarm) decided to tear its cocoon apart. He doesn’t have to look in a mirror to know that he will be sporting eyebags today. In last night’s rush, he forgot to draw the blinds, and now the sun burns his corneas, one cell at a time. 

What even happened last night? 

He throws his head back against the pillow and his body sinks in the cool sheets. He’s content with lying down on his bed, looking at all the memorabilia he’s gathered over the years in his room. There are loads of dinosaurs, scattered on his desk and on his bookshelf. There are some animal plushies here and there, and speaking of, Yamaguchi is coming to his house today to watch that wildlife documentary’s sequel. Is his room clean enough? Did he tell his parents? It’s Yamaguchi, so it’ll probably be okay anyway- 

_Oh._

In a sea of white sheets, Kei’s face is pink when the memory of yesterday kicks in. _He likes Yamaguchi._ He likes Yamaguchi, and he’s gonna _sleep over._ In Kei’s room. In Kei’s _bed_. (They always shared a bed, because it was never weird. _Until now._ ) He pinches the bridge of his nose and loses his will of living. Unfortunately, if he skips morning practice (and doesn’t tell Yamaguchi), everyone will ask questions, which will culminate with his crush himself asking him about it. He’s gonna have concern in his eyes, and he’s gonna start with ‘ _Tsukki_ ,’, the way he always does, and it’ll be too much for Kei, who will spontaneously combust and die. 

He checks his phone out of habit, and when he sees Yamaguchi’s name in his notifications, his heart skips a beat. He swipes through the photos he sent him (of the sunrise, of a stray cat that fell asleep in his backyard, a selfie that Kei may or may not have saved) and his chest feels like it’s blooming. A message that says ‘still on for tonight? mom needs to know’ confirms his fear. He takes a deep breath and texts him back ‘yes. bring snacks & stuff’. (He doesn’t imagine falling asleep next to Yamaguchi, nor waking up with a pair of slender freckled arms around his waist.) 

When he goes to the kitchen, he’s running a little late because he spent more time in the bathroom than usual trying to fix his hair. It looks a little neater, and Akiteru notices. They share a meaningful look while his mother is washing some dishes. He eats a slice of buttered toast in silence, hoping that it’ll take Yamaguchi a little more time to get to his house. (They walk to school together too.) Because, if anyone sees him waiting like a lost puppy, it’ll be a matter of time until someone calls him inside, and he and his brother _are not to be left alone._

His phone pings, and _it’s probably him_ , and he wasn’t done with breakfast _but he is now_. He grabs his schoolbag from a nearby chair and darts to the entrance. He changes his shoes and looks at himself once in the mirror. No trace of nerves, no flushed cheeks, no dilated pupils. He can almost fool himself that today is just like any other day. 

“Have fun, _Tsukki_!” Akiteru chimes in, just as he was about to open the front door and leave. He frowns in his direction and mutters a goodbye. 

“Kei, you forgot your bento-“ 

He slams the door shut and doesn’t hear his mother’s voice. 

Yamaguchi is, surely enough, waiting outside of Kei’s house, leaning against the fence. He follows some neighbor’s cat’s movements with his eyes. He’s so captivated, that he doesn’t even notice Kei walking up to him. With his eyes blown wide and a shy smile on his pretty face, Kei thinks he looks endearing. A smile of his own threatens to show, but Yamaguchi turns to him. 

“Good morning, Tsukki! Ready for practice?” He’s _beaming_ at the thought of volleyball. A lone butterfly is set free in Kei’s stomach. 

“Uh, sure.” His friend’s grin doesn’t falter. Another butterfly spawns in his guts. 

They start heading towards school. The pastel blues and pinks of the morning sky, paired with the cool gusts of wind that caress his exposed skin are enough to put him in a good mood. His good moods aren’t usually observed by most people, but Yamaguchi can read him like an open book. He ponders a while on that, and it should be scary, that one person can know so much about you, but if it’s Yamaguchi, Kei doesn’t mind. He sneaks a glance at his best friend, who opens his mouth to speak. 

“Did you do something to your hair?” Yamaguchi is looking at his hair intently, and that makes him feel a little self-conscious. He sucks at styling his hair. He thought it was fine at home, but what if the wind screwed it over? Or what if his tastes in hairstyles are weird? 

His friend tilts his head, and before Kei knows it, there’s a hand in his hair. Hopefully, Yamaguchi will think that he experimented with make-up, and not that the physical contact sets his skin on fire. 

“Yes. Why?” He’s won the battle, but lost the war. He didn’t stutter, and he didn’t break character from his neutral expression, but Yamaguchi is petting his hair and stars shine behind his eyes, and his lopsided little smile _will_ be the cause of his death. 

“Oh, no reason. It looks good on you, Tsukki.” He retracts his hand and never has Kei ever felt so cold. The compliment keeps his insides warm, though, so he supposes that it balances out. He’d gladly let silence end this, but it doesn’t feel right. 

“Yamaguchi, _shut up_.” 

It didn’t come out in the deadpan voice he was expecting, and his friend is visibly surprised. His inflexion suggested embarrassment. Kei wants to let any interested deities know that he’s up to be thrown in a black hole, right about now. 

The sparkle in Yamaguchi’s eyes distracts him, and all his thoughts are silenced just like that. 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” 

Yamaguchi looks happy, and Kei thinks he feels that way, too. 

They arrive at practice after a somewhat uneventful walk (Yamaguchi smiles, Kei blushes, Yamaguchi blushes, Kei holds in a smile, and so on). Their uneasiness to be around the clubroom is palpable, in the way that the both of them try to minimize the time spent there as much as humanly possible. 

Today’s morning practice consists mostly of solidifying the moves they learnt during summer camp. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, at first. Sawamura-san scolds the second-years for being loud, Shimizu-san hits Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san in the head with her clipboard and coach Ukai smells like smoke. 

They are divided in the same teams as ever. Kei and Yamaguchi are almost always together, and Kei is _always_ against the weird duo. Perhaps the coach wants to have at least one person capable of blocking the weird quick. He doesn’t really mind, because he still gets to block Hinata, and blocking Hinata’s spike means blocking Kageyama’s set-up, and that’s a simple _two birds-one stone_ situation. 

During a rally, a ball Azumane-san spiked is received by Sawamura-san, and Kageyama does that ascending toss, and it’s obvious who it’s meant for, and Kei gets ready. Sure enough, Hinata’s already airborne, and he and Azumane-san are going to block it. 

Seeing Hinata’s open eyes when he slams the ball on their side of the court is still a little unsettling, but what is positively _baffling_ is the hug the weird duo share after the successful attack. Hinata _lunges_ at Kageyama with the biggest smile on his face, and the setter turns rock-solid under the touch, but doesn’t push him away. It’s a long hug, and everyone on court notices it. Yachi-san must be embarrassed, but when he looks for her reaction, she grins knowingly by Shimizu-san’s side. 

He mouths ‘ _What the hell’_ at Yamaguchi, who shrugs in response. Does this mean that they finally got over whatever kept them from dating? Does Ennoshita-san win the bet? Will the atmosphere stop reeking of sexual tension around them? All of these questions do nothing but spur him further. _Why weren’t they together until now? What happened? Who confessed? How? Can he learn from this?_

He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly, to get rid of the thoughts. His gaze flits disinterestedly across the room. The two in discussion have the reddest face Kei has ever seen, and they keep some distance between them. Maybe this… _event_ happened accidentally. Maybe Hinata was so proud of his spike, that he decided to share the feeling with his lovely _not-_ boyfriend. Then again, Kageyama is pretty touch-averse, but he reacted rather well. Which means that something _has_ to have changed between the two of them. 

Kei is surprised by his own train of thought. He should lay off the mystery shows. 

He’s curious about how his teammates are reacting, so he analyzes their expressions. Sawamura-san looks relieved, Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san probably started thinking of ways to tease them, and he can practically see the stacks of money in Ennoshita-san’s eyes. Azumane-san is the embarrassed one, and Kinoshita-san and Narita-san share a glance. Sugawara-san, yet again, stares at him point blank, and seems to mouth at him ‘You’re next’. He glances at Yamaguchi, out of habit, and then back at the vice-captain. He only nods, as if he’s proven his point. Until he can figure out how to react, Ukai-san blows his whistle and rushes everyone back to the game. 

Because of their new-found mutual hatred of the clubroom, Kei and Yamaguchi become lightning-fast at putting on their uniforms. They hang around for the interrogatory that the weird duo will suffer, though, and also to pay the bet money to the likely winner of the bet. 

The second years take no time driving Hinata and Kageyama into a corner, and judging by the flush on their faces, there is a story to be told. 

“Now, what’s up with you two?” Nishinoya-san begins by asking the question that burns the hottest in everyone’s minds. For all of Nishinoya-san’s almost 160 centimeters, he seems to be towering over the two first-years. His presence is not something to be messed with. 

“What do you mean, Noya-san? My question is what’s up with all of you! You’re weird!” Hinata tries to avoid the question by using the oldest trick in the book. His voice trembles, because not even he would buy that. Kei doesn’t even bother to hold in an annoyed sigh. Hinata’s smile is fake, but he’s holding on better than Kageyama, who looks about five more seconds away from shutting down. 

“I mean, are you finally dating?” Kageyama’s eyes go ridiculously wide, and his face ridiculously red. He gives off the feeling of having lost the ability to speak. ”You guys are joined at the hip and all, but you never did stuff this obviously _romantic_ in front of us before.” 

Hinata looks constipated. His mouth opens, as if he would want to give a _totally platonic_ explanation, but then it closes. If only he could film this moment. 

“Because, if you are…” Sawamura-san chimes in, his voice reminding him of the teacher every student liked in movies. “We all support you.” They both look like the biggest weight imaginable was lifted off their shoulders, and it kind of makes sense. Romantic relationships _are_ a little frowned upon in the world of competitive sports, and nobody on the team ever had a reason to reveal their stance towards the matter. “Even Tsukishima.” Sawamura-san glared at him for three seconds, and he shrugged. _Why does everyone think he’s that bad?_

“Oh…” The duo shares a glance. Kageyama nods, and Hinata turns to the huddle of teenagers. His expression oozes determination. “Well, we are.” As if to prove it, Hinata reaches for Kageyama’s hand and holds it in his own. 

Everyone’s faces light up, and Kei feels Yamaguchi poke him. After he’s done pretending he didn’t have a heart attack, he moves his head closer, because there’s _no way_ he’s missing a single second of this. 

“Let’s just give Ennoshita-san the money and leave,” Yamaguchi whispers in his ear, his breath hot against his skin, and his voice sounds deeper like this, and Kei’s stomach feels effervescent. He doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he nods as he promptly grabs his schoolbag. He hands his friend the bills, and their fingers touch, releasing electricity into Kei’s blood flow. 

There’s chatter all around him, probably questions like ‘When did you start dating?’, ’Who confessed?’, ‘What do you like about each other?’ and so on, because his teammates _love_ gossip. He can’t blame them, because if it weren’t for his _current predicament_ he’d be the first in line to tease the couple, but he’s too absorbed by Yamaguchi bending over Ennoshita-san’s bag to put the money there. His head tilts all on his own, and it dawns on him that his friend is an athlete, and athletes tend to have muscles. Yamaguchi has some _really_ nice butt muscles, and he feels himself biting his lower lip. 

When Yamaguchi stands up and signals him to leave, the reality of what he’s done registers. _He stared at Yamaguchi’s butt._ Kei can only pray that it doesn’t show on his face. 

They slip out of the clubroom practically unnoticed, and the air between them feels awkward. 

“So Hinata and Kageyama, huh?” Yamaguchi puts his hands in his pockets. He’s on Kei’s right side, and there’s just a little bit of pink on his tan cheeks, and peeking at him through the corner of his eyes doesn’t sit right with him. 

“I wonder what effect this will have on the team’s dynamic.” Yamaguchi flinches. “I mean, they’re both regulars, and I don’t think this is something any of us know how to deal with.“ He doesn’t like where the idea is going, considering his _circumstances_ , but his mouth got ahead of his brain. “The setter needs to communicate well with the spikers, but what if they get into a fight?” Kei should _shut his damn mouth_. “Their quick is one of our strongest attacks, and if anything got in the way of that, we may not be as efficient.” He can feel hell’s gravitational pull, and how it’s targeting him. He’s afraid to look at Yamaguchi. 

There’s a beat of silence. They go down the steps and Kei remembers how yesterday he felt like he held Yamaguchi in the palm of his hand. Now it feels like the other way around. 

“Good point, but…” His friend gazes somewhere in the distance. Wind ruffles his hair just a little and Kei’s heart grows three sizes. “I believe it’s gonna be okay. They love each other, but they also love volleyball, y’know?” Yamaguchi should be forbidden from saying the word _love_. Rabid butterflies invade Kei’s stomach. “They’re much too obsessed with it to let something like a fight keep them from playing at their best.” 

A crow caws up in the sky. The sound feels like the period at the end of the conversation. 

“Anyways, did you do your chemistry homework? ‘Cause I didn’t, and you see, Tsukki…” 

He would have let him copy off his homework even before the realization, now he would even write it for him. Still, the tradition must go on. 

“Yamaguchi, shut up.” 

His friend’s grin is contagious, and he can’t help it as the corners of his mouth lift. 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't think kageyama actually spoke a single word until now whoops  
> i know japan's opinion on same-sex relationships isn't exactly a good one but i will (most likely) never write homophobia bc there's enough of it in my country  
> i hc that akiteru was emo in like 2004 and i just couldn't help sneaking in fob references, bc fob was the cheesier type of emo and bc i'm going for cheesy with this fic


	3. tentative

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i had half of this written since i published ch 2 but writing the other half proved to be a little more difficult than i thought  
> also thank you everyone who left kudos and who commented!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!i love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> constructive criticism is wanted, needed and appreciated and so are comments and kudos!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
> i hope you enjoy

The bell rings, and puts Kei out of his misery. Paying attention in class is already a chore, but with the added distraction of Yamaguchi pouting at his notebook, or biting on his pen, it becomes some sort of impossible mission. So far, no one saw how his eyes were constantly sliding to the right, but he doesn’t count on his luck. He knows better than that. 

At least, now it’s the lunch break, and there’s nothing Kei wants more than some good food to take his mind off everything for a while. He moves his hand inside his schoolbag, searching for his bento box, but he doesn’t find it. His eyebrows furrow as he keeps on looking. There’s _no way_ he didn’t bring a bento, his mother always nags him about it. 

Come to think of it, he did leave earlier than usual, and his mother did say something just as he closed the door. 

He tilts his head upwards and looks up, as if he’s searching for an answer. This is _exasperating_. 

“What’s the matter, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi says, as he walks back into the classroom. He’s carrying two pink drinks, and gives Kei one. It’s strawberry-flavored milk (his _favorite drink_ ), but in his current situation it’s more like nectar from the gods. He takes it, and their hands touch _again_. His pulse quickens regardless. 

“Forgot my bento.” He sighs and shoves his books in the desk. He doesn’t really bring money to school, either, so he can’t buy any food. 

Yamaguchi glances at his schoolbag and removes his bento. He looks back up to Kei, his eyes glistening in the sun. 

“Then we’ll share. Come,” he tells Kei as he opens the box. Their desks are close, but even so, the fact that he can smell the food all the way from here is ridiculous. He wants to hesitate, really, but his stomach grumbles and the next thing he knows, he’s moving his chair next to his friend’s. As he sits down, he stumbles upon a tiny detail. 

“Yamaguchi, you only have one pair of chopsticks.” Yamaguchi looks at said chopsticks and shrugs. 

“We’ll take turns, then. I’ll eat half now, and you’ll eat the rest when I’m done.” Kei feels like the words ‘indirect kiss’ might as well be written on his forehead. 

His friend digs in the lunch, and Kei pushes the straw through the hole on his milk box. He tries to reason with himself, to not stalk Yamaguchi even when he’s _eating_. He stares out the open window at the trees, he checks the time on his phone, he scrolls through some social media. It feels like the hardest thing he’s ever done, not looking at him. 

“There, all yours.” Yamaguchi pushes the half-empty bento box to Kei’s side of the desk. They face each other, and Kei licks his lips instinctually when he sees the small rice grain stuck to the corner of Yamaguchi’s mouth. The boy notices, and squints his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Kei’s gaze lingers on the grain (not on Yamaguchi’s lips) when he answers him. 

“You have a,” he points at his mouth. Yamaguchi lets out an ‘oh’ in realization and wipes clean everywhere but where the rice grain is. “No, it’s to the-“ Yamaguchi misses the spot again. Kei clicks his tongue and scowls. ”-just let me,” he says as he leans in and brushes the grain off with his thumb. His lips really _are_ soft, and he can feel the other boy’s breath on his hand, and _obviously,_ there’s some light coming from the window that falls perfectly on him. His heart stops beating, but he still finds it in himself to say “There. It’s gone.” He locks eyes with Yamaguchi, who’s blushing, and whose freckles stretch over his nose, and did he ever try counting them? 

“Thanks. Enjoy the food.” 

The clump of rice sticks to the chopsticks as he puts them in his mouth. Immediately, in his mind plays some sort of alarm, about how these are the _very_ chopsticks that went in Yamaguchi’s mouth, too. And remember how Kageyama fed Hinata, and now they’re dating? His cheeks start to burn. He nods in response and tries to focus on the taste of the food, instead of the boy next to him. 

The history teacher is taking attendance, and, as always, is taking his time with it. The kanji is small on the paper, and his teacher’s eyesight isn’t very good. But, when he answered his teacher’s “Tsukishima Kei” with “Present”, something else popped up in his mind. 

If, hypothetically speaking, he and Yamaguchi would end up in a relationship, and, even _more_ hypothetically speaking, they would have a long relationship, long enough to get married (Kei _does not_ blush at the thought), what would they do about the names? He’s always been called Tsukishima outside of family, because he isn’t close enough to anyone to use his given name. Wouldn’t it be strange not to be called that anymore? (If his last name wouldn’t be Tsukishima, then his best friend’s nickname for him wouldn’t apply anymore, either. That makes his stomach stir.) 

Anyway, what would they do? Tsukishima Tadashi has a nice ring to it, but the alliteration drives him a little crazy. Then, Yamaguchi Kei? 

He hears Yamaguchi answer the roll call and accidentally follows the sound of his voice. They make eye contact, and Yamaguchi waves at him, and the three kanji of Yamaguchi Kei are the only things in his mind. He blinks in acknowledgement and turns back to his own desk. His notebook is lying open in front of him, and his traitorous brain is chanting _‘Do it! Do it! Do it! Bring your sick fantasy to life!’_. His heartbeat picks up, and before he can protest, he sees his own hand move and pick up a pen. Then, the same hand starts writing. He feels like he’s exhaling steam, and he hopes nobody can see what he’s doing. 

When he’s done, he stares at the kanji like they killed his entire family. They’re sitting one below the other, and they do look kind of nice together. 

He vaguely hears his teacher start writing on the board, and he forces himself to snap out of it and take notes. A big test is coming soon, and he doesn’t want his grades to suffer from... _this_ reason. He starts copying what’s on the board, and whenever his eyes pass by the three little kanji, his chest feels funny. 

The teacher gets a phone call, and it’s important, because he has to leave the classroom and answer it. He welcomes the pause from writing, and throws a glance at the clock on the wall. He can take fifteen more minutes. And today’s lesson is interesting, anywa- 

“Tsukki! Pass me your notebook!” He flinches at the sound of Yamaguchi’s hushed voice, and almost gives him the notebook without thinking. He’s currently trying to improve his calligraphy, which is a good thing, but struggling with the stroke order for every single kanji tends to be time-consuming, so he doesn’t get to write everything down. Sliding his notebooks to his right during classes is part of the routine, but he remembers the words Yamaguchi Kei, written on paper, and he short-circuits. His breathing simply _stops_ , and his face becomes more and more red with every passing second. 

“What do you want it for?” He whispers back, maybe a little late, and hopes he doesn’t realize. He’s stalling, because _this is bad, this is very bad, he should not have done this._

“I’m behind with the notes.” He can _hear_ Yamaguchi’s eyeroll. “Give it to me, please, while he’s outside!” 

Kei can feel his every individual heart beat in the interval of time it takes him to cover the evidence. It looks more like an ugly blotch now, but he deems it passable. He hands Yamaguchi the notebook and does nothing but simmer in his fear while he waits for him to be done. He doesn’t dare look in his friend’s general direction, because _it’s not a risk worth taking,_ and when he gets his notebook back, he notices a small drawing near the blotch. It’s a stick figure with Yamaguchi’s hairstyle, that says ‘thank you’. Next to it, a tall stick figure wearing glasses and what looks like a bird’s nest on its head (is his hair really _that_ bad?) says ‘Yamaguchi, shut up.’ Then, your attention is drawn back to the first figure, who says ‘Sorry, Tsukki.’ His heart flutters after reading it, and when he turns to Yamaguchi to share a pointed glance with him, the corners of his mouth lift in a shy smile. Yamaguchi’s grin is blinding. 

Today, unlike yesterday, Kei doesn’t fall asleep during the last class. However, just like yesterday, when he and Yamaguchi head to the gym, the school is empty. Their conversations echo through hallways and open classrooms, and Yamaguchi’s mesmerizing laugh folds into itself, for Kei to hear again and again. 

They walk close to one another, and the sun is hiding behind clouds, and the wind is picking up. The air feels humid, and everything points to rain coming soon. Kei is wearing a t-shirt, and every time he finds himself in the path of the wind, his bare skin gets goosebumps. His long-sleeved training blouse is probably on some chair’s backrest at home, and he _would have brought it with him,_ if he wouldn’t have left so abruptly. Next to him, Yamaguchi looks just fine, in his weather-appropriate clothing, with his freckles that make up constellations, with his tan skin that contrasts the gloomy sky. 

He listens to his friend babbling about how he wants to practice his serves more and feels like he’s forgetting something. He frowns out of frustration, and tries to remember, when a distant rumble of thunder catches his attention. 

“Looks like a storm is close.” Kei lets it go. It’ll come back to him, if it was important. 

“Oh, about that… Tsukki, after practice, are we going straight to your house? I left some things at home, and if we go there first, I’ll take them with me, but we’ll risk getting caught outside…” 

It comes back to Kei like a boomerang to the back of his head. Yamaguchi’s sleeping over (Enough reason for a mental shutdown on its own, but he dealt with it in the morning. Mostly.), and he should have asked his parents. He didn’t, but he told the boy to come nevertheless. If his parents won’t agree, that would make him look bad in front of his crush, and who knows how that will influence their relationship? Maybe Yamaguchi will reach the conclusion that it was all an elaborate set-up to stop spending time with him, which will throw a wedge between them. Before he lets his mind fall in a downward spiral, he grabs his phone, and texts his mother. 

‘can yamaguchi sleep over today?’ 

Hopefully, she’ll say yes, and his biggest worry will go back to being not dying while sharing a bed with Yamaguchi. It’s not the most reassuring thought, but he’ll take it. 

“Uh… Tsukki… I asked you a question.” 

He turns to his right so fast he feels dizzy, and his eyes bulge out of his head. When his gaze meets his friend’s, his cheeks start to burn. This is extremely uncharacteristic of him, and Kei knows it. He was often too deep in thought to hear Yamaguchi before, but he never reacted like this. The look on Yamaguchi’s face might mean that he knows it, _too_. 

He tries to salvage what’s left of his dignity by collecting himself before answering. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” his mouth speaks, but that’s a lie. After recent _events_ , Kei couldn’t stop himself from paying Yamaguchi _too much_ attention. It sounds like something he’d usually say, though. 

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he reads the received message. 

‘Yes, but ask earlier next time. I’ll arrive late, and so will dad, but Akiteru will be home. Anyway, take care’ 

He sighs, letting the feeling of relief settle inside his bones. He pretends not to reflect too much on the fact that his brother will be home, too. ( _Stupid longer college summer vacation_ ) 

“If it’s raining by the time we finish practice, then let’s just go straight to mine.” He puts his phone away, and another clap of thunder echoes around them. A gust of wind makes him shiver just as they reach the gym. 

Practice was… _something_. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Tanaka-san and Nishinoya-san were loud, Shimizu-san ignored them, Yachi-san wrote intently in her notebook, and he was on the same team as Yamaguchi, against the weird duo. 

But he _never_ imagined that Kageyama would _ever_ compliment Hinata unprompted. After a rougher rally, the setter would turn to Hinata (but avoid his gaze), and mumble ‘nice kill’ or ‘don’t mind’. Hinata’s smile would grow exponentially, but after Tanaka-san’s speech before practice in the clubroom (“PDA during practice is a _capital sin_ ”), he wouldn’t try anything other than respond with “Thank you, Kageyama!”. 

(Something about Tanaka-san’s speech sat wrong with Kei. Why was he _that_ against PDA? Maybe seeing the idiots act cute around each other will remind him that they, his _kouhai,_ got a relationship before him. He lets his mind wander to the universe where he and Yamaguchi are dating, too, and _all_ his kouhai being romantically involved before him makes Tanaka-san jealous. Thinking about Yamaguchi in that context never failed to make him flush, but he had to bite down on a smirk then, too.) 

(Maybe everyone else was right. Maybe he _is_ an asshole.) 

The last fifteen minutes are allotted to practicing serves, and Kei does alright. He works on his aim, and whenever the ball hits the water bottle on the other side of the net, he clenches his fist in excitement. If the corners of his mouth quirk upwards every now and then is nobody’s business. 

But, now it’s the serve experts’ turn to serve, and Nishinoya-san’s turn to practice receiving. First up is Kageyama, who doesn’t really give the libero as much trouble as one would expect. Azumane-san’s jump serves pack a lot of power, but other than one or two flubbed receives, he doesn’t manage to challenge Nishinioya-san, either. 

When Yamaguchi steps behind the serving line, with steeled determination in his gaze, Kei loses all feeling in his limbs. All he can do is stare at the pinch server, who’s now hitting the ball in the ground once, twice. The muscles in Yamaguchi’s arms become more defined as he tosses the ball. His sinewy legs carry him forward, and propel him up in the air. He looks _strong, powerful_ when he hits the ball with his right hand, and Kei can’t breathe. He’s transfixed by his form, his focus, by his everything. 

Jump floater serves aren’t noisy in the way other serves are, but the noise Nishinoya-san makes when he collapses on the floor after diving for the ball (and _missing_ ) is deafening too. After the successful serve, Yamaguchi turns to his teammates, who are watching from the side. His eyes meet Kei’s, and the smile that blooms on Yamaguchi’s face accelerates his heartbeat. 

His friend gets back to serving, and Sugawara-san hands him a bottle of water, under the pretext that _‘he looked thirsty’._

The first years must clean up again, and after seeing the way Hinata and Kageyama were ogling each other, Kei and Yamaguchi decide to skedaddle. They close the gym’s big door and set foot outside, and find that the wind is howling around them, carrying with it some leaves, drying the sweat on their bodies. The clouds above their heads look like they’re made of lead, and the sun is setting behind them, and the world falls more into darkness with each second. A clap of thunder reminds them to go to the clubroom, and they set off, walking with the fastest sped they can muster. They exchange a glance, and Yamaguchi breaks the silence. 

“How was today’s practice?” 

“Ok, I guess,” Kei answers hesitantly. He feels like he forgot to tie a loose end. He doesn’t bother to ask Yamaguchi back, because he already knows his opinion. 

“Did you like serving?” His friend’s expression is metamorphosing into something else, but he’s one step behind. He doesn’t know what’s his point, but he doesn’t want to let him have it anyway. He shrugs as a response. 

They’re pretty close to the clubroom, all they have to do is take the stairs. Another rumble of thunder makes them keep the pace. 

“I saw you smile while serving, y’know.” On Yamaguchi’s face is a smirk with soft edges that feeds all the butterflies in his stomach. “Are you starting to like this?” 

His mind goes back to that night at training camp, where Yamaguchi officially became the coolest person Kei knows. He wants to improve, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like just a club anymore, and his team shouldn’t have to lose _again_ because of his refuse to try harder. Sometimes, the volleyball he plays now feels just like the volleyball he played when he was little, in his big brother’s shoes and with his small, starry-eyed, _first, best_ friend by his side. 

(“ _Motivation? What more do you need than pride?”)_

A lightning bolt burns through the sky, and Kei looks at it head on. There’s a small smile on his face. 

“I think.” 

Yamaguchi beams when he opens the door to the clubroom. 

They get changed fast, and slip out unnoticed. The air is electric, and Kei hides his shivering while Yamaguchi is enjoying a nice walk, all wrapped up in his raincoat. It has yellow stars on it, and the hood always slips into his face, and it makes him look _cute_. 

There are no people outside, just them, and every strike of lightning is brighter, and every clap of thunder is louder. The streetlights’ glow falls on Yamaguchi, pooling on the tip of his nose, on his forehead, on his upper lip, in his eyes. Kei’s right hand twitches like it wants to hold _something_ , and there’s a strong gust of wind that tickles his nose, and he sneezes. 

His friend turns to him, and darts his gaze all over his body. He oozes concern. 

“Are you cold?” Yamaguchi asks, and crush or not, Kei stares at him with blank eyes that mean _‘what do you think?’_. 

“Guess,” he deadpans, while attempting to cover as much of the bare skin of his arms as possible. 

Yamaguchi reaches into his schoolbag, takes out something, and throws it at Kei. He catches it in his hands, and he realizes how soft it is, and it looks black under the streetlight, and he’s confused for a second until he sees the white kanji, stretching in two horizontal lines across the jacket. ‘Karasuno High School Volleyball Club’. 

“If I’d wear both this,” Yamaguchi points to his raincoat, “and that, I’d be too hot. Since it’s likely that the storm will begin soon, I picked the raincoat.” Kei examines the clothing item in his hands one more time. “Wear it, it’ll keep you warm, Tsukki.” 

He puts the jacket on, and its sleeves don’t reach his wrists, and it’s uncomfortable to move his shoulders, but it smells like Yamaguchi (it smells _warm;_ like his shampoo, blended with mint and the musky scent of sweat), so he appreciates every second of it. 

“Does it even fit you? You’re kind of a giant,” his friend teases, and he doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s blushing. 

“Yamaguchi, shut up.” 

“Sorry, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi giggles. “Will there be anyone at your house?” It’s a valid question, Kei muses. Whenever his parents are home while Yamaguchi is there too, a minimum of two hours is allotted to pointless small-talk about school, or about volleyball, or about their (usually nonexistent) love lives. If they’re all alone, they can start doing things sooner. 

“Tragically, Akiteru will.” He sighs pointedly, and kicks a small pebble out of his way. 

“Your brother is cool, Tsukki, you’re just too big of a tsundere to realize it.” Kei kicks a pebble at Yamaguchi in retaliation, but it doesn’t have the desired effect (his friend, _shutting up_ ). “Atta tsundere boy, Tsukki!” Yamaguchi says, with a sickly-sweet smirk that liquefies his chest, and then he pats the top of Kei’s head twice. 

Yamaguchi’s hands are warm, but why are the tips of his fingers so cold? The grimace on his friend’s face fades, and a drop of water on his glasses gives it away. _The storm is here._

Yamaguchi shrugs and slides his hood on, unperturbed by the rain that starts to pour on them. There are rivulets of rainwater on the plastic of his raincoat, and if _he wouldn’t be caught in a storm with only a small, hood-less jacket_ Kei would appreciate it more. But, so has it, that he _is_ caught in a storm with only a small, hood-less jacket so he chooses to focus on shielding his head with his schoolbag. He doesn’t want to catch a cold, because _maybe_ he doesn’t want to miss practice. 

The sound of rain falling over them is somewhat relaxing, Kei finds. The droplets look like a halo under the streetlights, and the wind picks up, bending the trees like they’re blades of grass. There’s a bolt of lightning above them, and the rumble of thunder is deafening. They’re five minutes away from Kei’s house, so reaching shelter before the storm worsens _is_ possible. He wipes the lens of his glasses with his already wet, too short sleeve, and keeps walking. 

“Take off your glasses,” Yamaguchi tells him. “They’ll just get wet.” 

“And I’m supposed to walk home how?” Yamaguchi can be really stupid every now and then. Luckily for him, he’s cute, so it’s excusable. 

“Hold my hand, and I’ll guide you.” His pulse ascends to two hundred beats per minute, probably. He turns to his right, and there’s a hand that reaches for his own, and he’s putting his glasses away in the blink of an eye. 

He looks at Yamaguchi, who isn’t in high definition anymore, but the feeling of their hands together is the same. Yamaguchi squeezes his hand (and with that, Kei’s heart) and smiles. 

“I got you.” 

The rain keeps falling, and there’s a particularly strong gust of wind that knocks Kei into Yamaguchi’s side. Although his clothes will get wet because of the water that sticks to the raincoat, he doesn’t want to stop touching his friend like this, and there’s real emotion in his voice when he says: 

“You got me.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter i want to write the cheesiest most ridiculously fluffy sleepover i can write


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi THANKS @EVERYONE WHO COMMENTS AND LEAVES KUDOS!!!!!!!  
> i'm involved in a project and i'll be leaving for camp soon so until like the 23rd i won't really be able to write a lot but i'd like to update at least one more time before july ends  
> i wrote 4/5 of this today and i didn't read through it a lot so if i'll edit it out of nowhere it's bc i found some mistakes  
> constructive criticism=wanted,needed,appreciated  
> thanks a bunch and enjoy!!

“There’s a puddle in front of you, come towards me,” Yamaguchi says, and Kei takes a large step to the right. He doesn’t trust his eyes without his glasses enough to doubt his friend right now. 

The rain picked up, and the streetlights pour gold in the droplets on Yamaguchi’s raincoat, and blurry as it is, it’s the most beautiful thing Kei has ever seen. Everything about this overwhelms his nerves, his eyes, his mind, his feelings. He doesn’t think he could ever get used to the warmth of their hands joined together, to the sound of his voice guiding him, just like a lighthouse guides those stranded at sea back to the shore. 

Whenever a bolt of lightning lights the path ahead and the thunder echoes in their ears, they shuffle even closer to one another. Kei never got drunk, but this must be what people feel when they say they’re _intoxicated_. 

He’s soaked to the skin, and it’s _cold_ , but he doesn’t want this moment to ever end. His heart is filled to the brim with something he doesn’t understand, and when he squeezes Yamaguchi’s hand (who squeezes his back), it feels like everything will spill over. 

“I don’t know if you can tell, but we’re almost there,” Yamaguchi tells him, but the tone of his voice is unreadable, and his chest deflates. 

“Okay.” He feels a little disappointed, but there’s nothing he can do about this… _walk_ ending. He tries to commit every detail to memory, but he finds that he’s already done that. 

The rain keeps pouring around them, and the pitter-patter of the raindrops falling to the ground mixes well with the sound of Yamaguchi breathing, and maybe with his own, and this might just be the best song he’s ever listened to. 

After passing a certain number of sleepy houses, Kei is certain that they’ve arrived home, and he would give anything to extend the lingering touch of the warm, tan hand that was in his own. Someone appears to be in the kitchen, and he almost forgot that they won’t be all alone now. In fact, he can make out the front door opening, the light dissolving in the darkness of the night, and Akiteru’s tall figure sparks fear inside him. 

“You’re _walking_ during a _storm_? What if you’ll catch a cold? Hurry up and come inside!” As his friend retracts his hand and runs to the house, Kei grimly thinks about how this isn’t one of the best times for his brother to give in to his protective side. He jogs half-heartedly to the entrance, though, making himself be just a beat behind Yamaguchi. 

They take off their shoes in the genkan, and Akiteru shuts the door close. Kei can smell hot chocolate, and his brother is so much of a mother hen that it’s _ridiculous_. 

He focuses on untying his shoelaces, but extends a hand and gives Yamaguchi the guest slippers (that are his size, and in a color he likes, because he’s the person that uses them the most) from the shoe cupboard. He doesn’t feel him grabbing them, and his arm is getting tired, so he turns to see what happened. He finds that his friend is engulfed by his outside shoes as well, but _apparently_ senses the weight of Kei’s gaze on him, and lifts his eyes. He realizes that they’re really close. He never saw the little holes in Yamaguchi’s irises before. He wouldn’t have to lean in so much to kiss him on his lips, on his pink lips that he is _very_ aware of now, and his cheeks catch fire. He throws the slippers in the boy’s general direction and pretends that he’s fine when he notices his brother observing them silently from a corner. 

He takes his jacket off and puts his glasses back on. It kind of feels like he’s finally wearing the right type of armor for the environment of the battle (getting past Akiteru without _dying_ ). Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be a save station anywhere nearby. 

“Welcome to our humble abode, Yamaguchi-kun.” Kei hears a giggle, and this is _so unfair_. “I figured that you’d be caught by the storm, so I made you some hot chocolate, because at least _one of us_ has to be a good host, y’know?” He tries to casually _book it_ to the kitchen, escape his brother’s shitty, embarrassing monologue and never look back, but Akiteru caught him by the collar of his shirt. On his face rests a grimace that says _‘you’re not going anywhere’_. “See what I mean?” He shares a pointed glance with Yamaguchi, and then they’re both gazing at Kei. He focuses his eyes on a button on his best friend’s coat, and isn’t it the second one? He sighs, and _does not_ think about that silly shoujo manga thing with the second buttons. 

“I only wanted to get the chocolate for my _esteemed_ guest, big brother. Or is this not common curtesy, giving the guest the refreshments?” He has a reputation to hold, and he won’t go down without a fight. (A small part of him is happy that he gets to bicker with his brother like this again.) 

He doesn’t know how he expected Akiteru to react, but he wouldn’t have, in a million years, thought that he’d _laugh_. 

“ _Esteemed,_ alright. Yamaguchi-kun, go take a shower. Me and The Butler Of The Year over here,“ He smirks, and Kei hides a gulp. Yamaguchi looks strangely pensive, but that’s not his biggest worry now. “are gonna make some popcorn. Is it alright?” 

Yamaguchi hesitates, and so does his heartbeat. He’s still more concerned with what Akiteru has planned, though. 

“I, uh, kinda left my pajamas at home?” It’s intonated like a question, and there’s a snippet of an earlier conversation replaying in Kei’s mind. He wants to slap himself in the face. 

“I’m absolutely _positive_ my brother won’t mind giving you some of his clothes.” His best friend looks relieved, and turns to him for his blessing. All he trusts himself to do is shrug. “See? Now go, _Tsukki_ will be fine!” He elbows Akiteru. The wince he makes is nothing short of music to his ears. 

“Okay then,” Yamaguchi says sheepishly, before leaving his schoolbag in a corner and going to the bathroom, upstairs. The thuds his feet make on the wooden staircase fill the awkward silence between him and Akiteru, until they aren’t heard anymore, and there’s a conspiratorial grin on his brother’s face now. 

“Mom told me he’s sleeping over tonight. You figured out you have a crush on him yesterday, and you want to share a room today?” All life leaves Kei’s body. “You move so fast, little bro! I’m proud!” The upwards quirk of his mouth is genuine. That’s nice, on a certain level. “But don’t fool around. I’ll know.” Every cell seems to dissolve in the vacuum that has formed inside Kei, leaving him an empty husk of blushes and scowls. 

“Don’t make me regret telling you about this,” he threatens, but it falls on deaf ears, because Akiteru gives him a few pats on the head, shushing him. He rolls his eyes, and starts preparing the bowls for the popcorn. 

Kei is lying on his back, on his bed, staring at the ceiling in the few moments before he dies. There are two mugs of hot chocolate and two big bowls of popcorn on his desk. He was listening to the sounds of the water running with his eyes closed, but they stopped, and he should get ready to take a shower himself, but his bed is _so_ comfortable after a long day. He lets the mattress swallow him whole, and forgets a small, _insignificant detail_ that comes back to his mind the very second the bathroom door opens. 

_He has to lend Yamaguchi some of his clothes_ . He jolts to a standing position, and jumps to the closet. He opens a door, but that’s all he has time for before succumbing to death. 

“Tsukki, are you falling asleep? It’s not even ten,” Yamaguchi is standing in the bathroom doorway, while holding a towel in place with his hand. His hair is wet, and _why does it look good_ , and his face is a little red from the hot water, and he’s _shirtless_ , and there’s water dripping from his hair onto his chest, and he’s _shirtless_ , and his shoulders have freckles too, and the towel doesn’t even reach his knees, and did he mention that he’s _shirtless_? He feels every synapse in his brain stop working, and Yamaguchi almost has _abs_ , and his skin is tan, and one of his sharp, _fascinating_ hipbones juts out, and there’s hair beginning somewhere under his bellybutton that continues under the towel, and _probably ends somewhere_. His shoulders look defined, and Kei chokes on his spit, and his cheeks are on fire, and he is dying. There’s a strange feeling pooling in his abdomen and since, luckily, his brain is dead, he can’t think about what that sensation means. The smirk on Yamaguchi’s face turns to a confused expression, and _crap, did he ask a question?_

“Uh, yes,” he mumbles while avoiding his best friend. He chooses to fixate on the bookshelf, and he’s hoping that he answered _whatever_ he asked him properly. The way Yamaguchi squints his eyes swiftly kills that hope. 

“Whatever, _grandpa_ , just give me some clothes first, please.” 

He throws him a pair of pajamas in record speed, and manages not to glance at Yamaguchi’s naked body. That warrants an award, he muses. He grabs his own pajamas and a pair of new boxers, and is ready to go take a _cold_ shower himself, when he’s interrupted. 

“Uh…” This doesn’t sound good. “I need underwear too…” 

Bees spawn inside of Kei’s veins, and they buzz his ability to function properly away. He peeks at the boxers in his hand, that are almost new, and they’re here now, aren’t they? He attempts (and fails) to look Yamaguchi in the eye, shrugs, and tosses him his boxers. Nothing really registers as missing, so he goes and locks himself in the bathroom before he can hear his friend’s reply. 

The lack of a shirtless Yamaguchi in the room makes breathing a lot easier. The slam of the heavy door clears his mind a little more, and the flush on his skin _must_ be from how hot is in here. He takes off his glasses and assesses the damage in the foggy mirror. His wide pupils, his tomato-red (or Nekoma-red) face, and his uneven breaths don’t paint an image of detached aloofness. 

He squints at the shower’s faucet. He turns the knob to the left and takes off the rest of his clothes. 

It felt like he was washing himself with _ice_ , but his skin is back to normal now, so it paid off. He towels himself off and searches for his underwear, the one that’s not on the counter, nor on top of the laundry hamper, but (he really slaps himself this time) _on Yamaguchi_. He takes a deep breath, and analyzes the situation. He can just get dressed like nothing’s wrong, but if something unexpectedly _physical_ would happen, which probably will, because Yamaguchi just _loves_ hitting him in the face with pillows, it’s _not gonna be good_. He can ask his friend to bring him a pair of boxers, but his twisting guts oppose the idea. He pinches the bridge of his nose and puts on his glasses. The wood on the bathroom door has never looked so sturdy. 

“Uh, Yamaguchi?” He knocks on the door to get his attention, and speaks a little louder. He doesn’t _see_ him like this, so this should be alright. “Can you get me some underwear from the first drawer next to my closet?” There’s a few beats of silence, that Kei’s irregular heartbeat fill. 

“Sure, Tsukki! In a sec,” and he can hear a drawer opening and closing. _Thank you, Yamaguchi._

He cracks the door open, and his friend’s tan hand slithers through the opening holding a pair of nondescript boxers. He takes them, and shuts the door. He wants to say thanks, but the faint laughter coming from his room means that he _pulled something_. 

“Yamaguchi, shut up.” He stretches the boxers in his hands, and notices that they’re small. Very small. First, how did he tell which ones fit him and which ones don’t, and second, _why_ is he doing this? He sighs exaggeratedly, mostly for Yamaguchi’s ears. 

“Sorry-not-sorry, Tsukki!” The laughter intensifies, and soon enough Kei hears a loud thud. He smirks, thinking about how Yamaguchi fell out of bed laughing, and putting on underwear two sizes too small doesn’t seem like such an impossible task. 

He leaves the bathroom fully dressed, only to find Yamaguchi sitting on his bed, alternating between sipping from his hot chocolate or stuffing his mouth full with popcorn. He has a foam mustache, and the pajama shirt is showing his collarbones, and half of his hair is still wet. Kei still has to swallow a smile. 

He chooses to swallow it when he throws his wet towel at him. Yamaguchi shrieks and barely has enough time to put the mug of hot chocolate on the night stand. 

“Are you an idiot? One too many balls to the head, Tsukki?” Kei can’t help but snicker, because _yeah_ , doing this was a bad idea, he might have spilled the chocolate everywhere, but that didn’t happen and now, he’s one upped him. He flops on the bed and leans over the bowl in Yamaguchi’s lap to take some popcorn. He tilts his head upwards, to grimace at the boy, but he finds that he’s _looming_ on top of him. His shit-eating grin fades away when he feels Yamaguchi’s exhale on his shirt. Their eyes meet, and before he can do anything, pure _dread_ engulfs him. 

Liking Yamaguchi doesn’t mean that he likes him back. Feelings aren’t always requited. He doesn’t know how someone who has a crush on him would behave, and most probably, nothing changed since yesterday. What if this isn’t even a crush, what if this is just frustration? Yamaguchi is pretty, and he _is_ a fifteen-year-old boy, after all. He put a name to the feelings he has for the boy only yesterday, what if the name is simply wrong? What’s the difference between deep platonic love and romantic love? 

_How does he feel about Yamaguchi?_

He avoids his gaze and moves away. He sits next to him (but not too close), and clicks his tongue. Yamaguchi’s eyes look glazed over, but that doesn’t matter now. He puts the towel on the window pane, grabs the laptop and turns it on. 

Around the half of the documentary, his parents text him to say that they’ve arrived. He doesn’t want to pause, and risk some more awkward silence with Yamaguchi, so he tells them that they’re watching something in his room, and that he’s too lazy to go downstairs and say hi. The answer comes soon after, as a text that wishes the both boys a good night. His parents understand. That’s nice. 

The documentary is interesting, and relaxing, but it’s the last thing on Kei’s mind right now. He keeps turning over the issue of his interest in Yamaguchi, and he can’t seem to reach a conclusion. Maybe everything with Hinata and Kageyama getting together made him feel jealous, and the person he’s the closest to is Yamaguchi, so he’s taking all that out on him. Maybe this is how all friendships are, in reality, and he doesn’t know because he doesn’t have other friends. 

Next to him, his friend is lying in a cocoon of blankets and is watching the documentary with undivided attention. The light of the screen reflects in Yamaguchi’s eyes and coats his face in cold white. Some of his freckles show, and his lips are parted. His hair is fluffed, and many strands escape the low ponytail, framing him nicely. His jawline looks pronounced, and it projects a deep shadow on his neck, but his collarbones are touched by the light. The beauty of Yamaguchi squeezes his heart dry. He feels like he can’t live another second without telling someone, so he sneakily turns on his phone. The screen’s brightness is already low, so it doesn’t disturb his friend, and he scrolls through his contacts. No one on the volleyball team could be trusted with this, so they’re all crossed out. His classmates aren’t exactly what he’s had in mind either, so they’re out too. Only a few numbers remain, and one of them catches Kei’s eye. He sends a tentative text. 

‘what are you doing’ 

Surprisingly enough, an answer comes immediately. 

‘wondering why tsukki would text me first, hbu’ 

He frowns subconsciously. 

‘stop calling me that, kuroo-san. i need to speak to someone if you wouldn’t mind’ 

‘what happened tell me evrything ill help u’ 

He stops the text exchange for a moment and thinks things through. Although Kuroo-san is kind of annoying, he is a nice person inside, and he wouldn’t tease him ( _too much_ ) about this. They may never see each other face to face, anyway. Not telling anyone is out of the question, because if he will keep this secret one more second he’s going to burst, and he’s already acted out of character with him by texting first. His heartrate picks up as he types the words, and it feels like time stops once the read receipt appears on the screen. 

‘i might have feelings for someone’ 

‘you do know kenma and i are together right’ 

‘nevermind. bye, kuroo-san’ 

‘wait come back i was joking’ 

‘i might have feelings for yamaguchi’ 

The reply doesn’t arrive in the blink of an eye, and he starts doubting his decision. He wants to abandon the conversation when he feels his phone vibrate. 

‘can I call u’ 

Kei feels uneasy, but pauses the documentary and lets Yamaguchi know that he needs some water. His friend nods absent-mindedly and pulls out his phone. 

He doesn’t look back when he shuts the door to his room close. 

He sneaks downstairs, and checks for traces of people in the kitchen. Luckily, his parents and Akiteru are in their rooms, and the kitchen is dark and empty and silent. He dials Kuroo-san’s number and leans against the wall, gazing out the window. The storm isn’t gone yet, but it lost most of its intensity. Stray raindrops hit the glass on the other side, and tumble all the way down to the window frame, where Kei loses them. Kuroo-san picks up after three rings. 

“Hi, Tsukishima. ‘t’s been a while,” he says, and the politeness (he _didn’t_ call him Tsukki) really impresses him. He might actually understand how bad this is. Maybe coming to him was a good idea. 

“Hello, Kuroo-san. I can’t talk for long, and I called you for a reason.” His voice didn’t stray from its usual monotone sound. The inside of him was burning. 

“Okay, let’s take it from the top. You got the hots for Yamaguchi?” If the outdated idioms won’t stop and the advice won’t start, Kei might just hang up. But he knows he wouldn’t. 

“It’s more complicated than that.” He inhales deeply. “I don’t know what I feel for Yamaguchi. If it’s platonic, or romantic.” No response. “But I’m pretty sure it’s love.” 

“With the risk of sounding cliché, kid, you’ve come to the right place.” 

“You’re seventeen, Kuroo-san.” 

“Indulge me.” The banter was refreshing, and it made him feel a little more comfortable. But the clock keeps ticking. 

“Get to the point.” 

“I think something like this happened to Kenma. Before we started dating. He observed his feelings from the point of view of the concepts of different types of love, and he drew a blank.” _That’s it._ “It took him a while to get the guts to talk to me about this, and even after that, he’s still occasionally confused. But I guess I’ll tell you what I told him.” Who would have known that Kuroo-san is good at giving advice? Kei steels himself for the ephipany. _“If it looks like a duck, swims like a duck and quacks like a duck, then it’s probably a duck.”_

He will never come to Kuroo-san for advice ever again. 

“Thanks for nothing, Kuroo-sa-“ Overlooking how stupid it sounds, that’s actually a good analogy. He should keep tabs on his feelings, but in the end, he should go with his instincts, with what feels right. “ _Thank you_ , Kuroo-san.” 

“Don’t mention it, kid.” He was laughing, and while Kei doesn’t like being laughed at, he’ll let this one slide. “Y’know, Kenma reacted in the same way. Maybe he could help you even more. Want me to give you his number?” 

Go big or go home, right? 

“I guess. Good night.” 

Kuroo-san mumbles his farewells and ends the call. A particularly strong gust of wind drags leaves with it, and one of them sticks to the window. It isn’t perfectly green anymore, a sign of the imminent autumn. A strange feeling twists his guts, and his phone burns in his pocket when he walks back upstairs. 

He knocks twice, then pauses, then knocks three more times on the door out of habit. This is their secret knock, that they’ve invented a good four years ago, and when he opens the door, the smile on Yamaguchi’s face tells him that he remembers, too. 

The lights are turned off, and the blinds drawn shut. The only thing that keeps the room from sinking into darkness is the glow of his friend’s phone, that’s lying face up somewhere on the bed. Kei grabs the second bowl of popcorn from his desk, and sits on the bed. 

“Didn’t you bring any water?” Yamaguchi asks him while fiddling with the laptop. 

“Did you want water?” He glimpses at him, and hears his phone vibrate. Yamaguchi seems to notice as well. 

“Kinda, but who’s texting you?” Kei avoids him, and stands up. He plucks his phone from the sheets and places it in his pocket. 

“I’ll go get some, then.” He knows that he’s avoiding the question, but he doesn’t understand why. ( _Reoccurring theme of the night_ , his mind supplies.) 

With his hand on the door handle, he turns to face Yamaguchi. His eyes glint playfully in the dark, but there’s something else about the way they shine that draws Kei in. He can’t put his finger on it, though. 

“Yamaguchi, shut up.” 

Yamaguchi’s head tilts to the side almost imperceptibly, and his stare pierces through him. The air in the room feels electric, just like the deafening silence before a devastating storm. 

“Sorry, _Kei_.” 

His eyes blow wide, his cheeks catch fire, and after leaving the room, he leans on the closed door. He whips out his phone, and the most recent notification comes from Kuroo-san, who texted him a number. He saves it as _Kozume-san_ , and goes to the kitchen again. 

He takes a bottle of water back with him, and the whole time it feels like he’s walking among clouds. 

Back in the room, he drinks some water, and passes the bottle to Yamaguchi, who gulps about a third of it in one go. They make eye contact, and something about the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed the water or the way his lips look redder ignites the spark of frustration in Kei’s spirit. ( _He doesn’t have to like him back._ ) He lies down next to Yamaguchi, and slides his feet under a blanket. 

“Thanks for the water, Tsukki,” he chirps as he presses play on the documentary. 

When the ending credits are rolling on the screen, both boys extend a hand to the laptop. Their fingers bump into each other, and the sensation coils around Kei’s finger even after they stop touching. There’s a flush on his face, and he can’t stop staring at Yamaguchi’s hand. 

“Uh, sorry about that,” he blurts, and his friend squints his eyes. 

“Same, yeah, sorry,” his gaze follows Kei’s to his own hand, and then it goes back to the other boy. “Is there something wrong with my hand?” 

The maelstrom of feelings inside his chest is stirring, but fear paralyzes him. 

“No, don’t worry.” 

He puts the laptop on the desk, and gets in bed after leaving his glasses on the end table. He doesn’t have to ask him because he knows that they’re both sleepy. 

They’re lying back to back, and the lack of light makes it easy for him to fall asleep. There are many things in his head right now, but he’s so tired that he might just skip the overthinking tonight. 

Out of habit, he turns to Yamaguchi, who’s already facing him, and they used to have so many conversations sitting like this when they were little. The blade of nostalgia stabs Kei, but it’s the type of pain he likes. His friend’s eyes are wide in the dark, and he can’t help it when he lets out a shy smile. 

“How do you feel?” He can’t lie to Yamaguchi. 

“I’m scared.” He couldn’t possibly understand why, but he says it anyway. A louder clap of thunder echoes in the room, and he feels his friend scoot closer to him. 

Even if Kei is taller, when they cuddle he somehow always ends up with his head in the crook of Yamaguchi’s neck. They’re a mess of bodies and limbs, and he can hear Yamaguchi’s heartbeat, and he is shrouded in his smell and his warmth. 

“I’m here for you,” he whispers, and Kei gets goosebumps on his forearm that Yamaguchi rubs until they disappear. He forgets about platonic and romantic love, and lets himself _love_ his friend with all his heart in this one moment. 

“Good night, _Tadashi_.” 

“Good night, Kei.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you're wondering why it was such a Big deal that yamaguchi was shirtless let me tell you: i am 16 and if i'd see my crush shirtless i'd go into cardiac arrest


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry for updating so late  
> this a shorter chapter but it's rather packed with Stuff that Happens  
> constructive criticism is cool  
> i didn't really spellcheck it so if you find any mistakes feel free to let me know  
> i love everyone who left a comment and/or kudos!!

The alarm rings, and tears through Kei’s sleep. It’s warm, but not suffocating, and he would give anything to stay under the blanket just a little longer, but he knows better than to skip morning practice. He cracks open a bleary eye, and the sunrise’s yellow light peeks in the room through the holes of the blinds. There’s a faint sheen of sweat on his forehead, and when he wants to move a hand to wipe it off, he finds that he can’t. 

The blanket on his back seems a little too thick for comfort, too. 

He looks at his pale arm, immobilized by a tan, freckled arm. His heart skips a beat, but when he notices Yamaguchi’s sleeping face, he relaxes instantly. 

Although his feelings make things a little more complicated than they need to be, they’ve always slept in the same bed, because both of them have ridiculously large beds. And, more often than not, they cuddle too. This is nothing new. 

Yamaguchi’s eyes are closed, and his tan skin contrasts with his white sheets, and his hair is fluffy and messy. He’s holding onto Kei the way he hugs pillows when he sleeps alone, and that makes his mouth twitch. _Obviously_ , he hogged the blanket during the night, but he does a pretty good job at keeping him warm, so Kei will allow it. 

He remembers that the reason that he is up is because his alarm rang, and he wonders how did Yamaguchi manage to sleep through it. He realizes that the task of waking his friend up is up to him, and sweeps the fluffy feelings away from his mind. 

Kei tries to stealthily extract himself from the sleeping boy’s grip, and fails. He takes another approach, and he starts violently moving, hoping to wake him up. He manages to get a hand out of Yamaguchi’s death-grip, but _obviously_ the boy is still asleep. He puts his free hand on Yamaguchi’s shoulder and shakes lightly. 

“Yamaguchi, wake up.” He doesn’t believe in whispering, because he still remembers the incident with the phone lantern, and because he just realized that if they won’t be up soon, someone like his mom (or _worse)_ will come to wake them up, and this isn’t a predicament he wants to be caught in. Yamaguchi doesn’t even flinch. But it’s not over yet. “If Akiteru sees this, I’m gonna tell Kageyama you had a crush on him. _In front of Hinata._ ” It’s kind of a low blow, but what his brother would do if he saw them _cuddling_ (now that he knows about Kei’s big, fuzzy feelings) is unimaginable. He’d take photos and print them, and put them in fancy frames and _never_ let them collect dust on the mantelpiece, because whenever anyone would visit them, he’d show them the photos of _‘his future brother-in-law’_ or something like that. 

He hears thumping coming from outside of his room. The person who came up with ‘dreams come true’ should have specified that only _good_ dreams should come true, but they didn’t, and Kei’s the one who has to suffer for it. 

The sounds become clearer with every passing second, and each step up the stairs feels like the tick of a clock that’s strapped to a bomb. Next to him, Yamaguchi’s probably dreaming about soggy French fries, jump floater serves and ways to make his life miserable. There’s even a small smile on his face. 

“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” he all-but screams in his ear. His friend frowns and holds him even tighter. His heart would burst at the gesture, if it wasn’t so occupied with suffering a heart attack. He barely manages to drag a leg from the mess of their bodies, and tries again. “Yamaguchi, get up!” His voice didn’t even sound monotone, he’s _that_ desperate. He feels the black hole open underneath him when he notices that the thumping stopped, which means that whoever’s coming is _seconds_ away from his room. Yamaguchi begins to stir just as the steps get louder and louder, which is _too bad_ , because when he sees the handle of his door twitch, he does the only thing he could think of to save himself. 

_He kicks Yamaguchi off the bed._

There’s a thud, and Kei mentally apologizes. In the doorway, his mom eyes the bed warily. In all his fifteen years of living on this rock, he never felt the need to personally thank any deity for anything as much as he does now. He might tear up. He remembers his house doesn’t even _have_ a mantelpiece. He wipes _sleep_ away from his eyes, and nothing else. 

“Good morning, dear. I wanted to come and make sure you get up in time for practice, but it looks like I didn’t have to.” Her smile is honey-sweet, as always, but there’s an ounce of suspicion in her eyes. 

“Yes, you didn’t have to. I got up on my own.” He wants to tell her to _leave_ , because he _kicked Yamaguchi to the floor_ , and oh, yeah, on your way out, could you please _not_ notice the possibly unconscious teenager that’s _maybe_ sleeping next to the bed? But that would mean he has something ( _someone_ ) to hide, and when hidden things (sleeping best friends) are discovered, questions are asked. Questions he does not have answers for. 

So he ignores her, and puts on his glasses, and almost gets out of bed, when someone Upstairs decides to do him a solid. 

“Okay. Breakfast is ready, so hurry up! I wouldn’t want you boys to be late.” His mom grabs the doorknob, and he can breathe again, but, as it seems, someone _else_ Upstairs hates his guts. 

“What the hell, Tsukki? Did you try to kill me? What the hell?” Yamaguchi rises from where he’s been _kicked_ on the floor, looking like his only reason to live is to give Kei the bird. He tries to tell him through his eyes that _his mom is watching, let’s have a truce until the door is closed,_ but there’s no need for that, because said mom is now coughing awkwardly from the doorway. He’s too embarrassed to look her in the eye. His face is burning, and Yamaguchi must tell, because he chooses to bury the hatchet. (At least until she leaves.) 

“Oh, good morning, Tsukishima-san. I didn’t see you, sorry for being rude. You see, _Kei_ and I were…” he scans the room with the corner of his eyes, luckily not noticing how Kei is trying very hard not to spontaneously combust. When his gaze lands on his gym bag, Yamaguchi’s expression reminds him of Sugawara-san’s, when he locked the gym in spring. (He knows now, that he and Tanaka-san were having secret practice in the gym with the idiot duo, and he wonders if Sawamura-san ever found out.) “Doing some exercise for volleyball.” Both Tsukishimas stare at him incredulously, but he perseveres. “Coach told us about this technique for improving… uh… strength, and since we’re both pretty noodly, I thought I could ask _Kei_ to try it with me. So, it’s kinda like … uh… wrestling, and we were doing it, and he won, and I lost my balance and fell off the bed right before you came in.” There’s some pink on Yamaguchi’s cheeks, and even if he took all these obvious breaks in his speech, it really sounded like something they’d do. He’s amazed by his friend’s acting skills. “And… it’s kinda embarrassing, you know? So I thought that maybe you won’t see me if I lie very still, and it almost worked, until, uh, I thought you left?” His mom sports an understanding smile, and even if Yamaguchi’s body language exudes embarrassment, his eyes say _‘This is gonna cost you.’_. He tries to do a nod, but it comes out stiff. He supposes that it adds to the awkward charm of this… _situation_. 

“Kei, why didn’t you say you want to improve your strength? Akiteru could help you both, you wouldn’t have to sneak behind my back like this!” She chuckles, and Kei’s internal organs start melting. He’s not sure what to make of this. His mom didn’t see them cuddling, but he now owes Yamaguchi big time _and_ his brother will find out that he was _wrestling in bed_ with his crush. All he can do is open and close his mouth, like stupid Hinata when Nishinoya-san was interrogating him. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and Kei is no exception. “Thank you for telling me, Yamaguchi-kun. Now quit _wrestling around_ and get ready, you two!” Her voice is chipper, and his friend laughs out the fakest polite laugh he’s ever heard, but she leaves, closing the door shut, and Kei lets out a breath he doesn’t remember holding. 

Next to him, standing up at 180 centimeters, with a scowl that could rival Kageyama’s when they first met him, Yamaguchi looks ready to kill. He notices his sleepy eyes, and his messy hair, and how his shirt reveals a tan, freckled shoulder, and now he’s climbing on the bed, his bare knees in between Kei’s feet, and he keeps moving forward, and he’s actually _scared_ , so scared that his lower abdomen is twitching _in fear_ (there’s no other reason why he’d suddenly be _so_ aware of that area of his body right now, with Yamaguchi looming on top of him- _nevermind_ ). 

“I’m gonna kill you.” And before he can tell what’s going on, Yamaguchi starts tickling him _mercilessly_. Yamaguchi’s knees are on his calves, holding him in place, as he goes to town on his neck and tummy. He can barely breathe over the laughter, and he tries to fight back, but he can’t make his hands do something so _complicated_ as tickling Yamaguchi right now. He hates being tickled, because he’s very ticklish and it makes him laugh, which is out of character. He didn’t come all this way with his blasé personality so some cute boy would tickle his entire reputation away. 

“St- stop it! Now! It-It’s-I-“ The collected part of himself is probably writing a suicide note somewhere. “I hate it!” Yamaguchi _smirks_ , and he both loves and hates it. 

“That’s why I’m doing it,” his crush _purrs_ from on top of him. Kei feels his blood sink, and when Yamaguchi brings both of his hands to tickle his neck he notices his escape. With herculean effort, he grabs one of the freckled boy’s arms, and holds it as tight as he can. Some sort of light fades from Yamaguchi’s eyes, but he doesn’t stop the _torture_. 

That’s how, in one surprisingly swift move, Kei finds himself biting Yamaguchi’s shoulder. The boy shrieks, but keeps tickling him, and this means _war_. It’s difficult, remaining fixated to him like this, because he’s still laughing, but if this is his only weapon, he plans on using it to its fullest extent, so he digs his teeth down in the pretty freckled shoulder with determination. He hopes it’ll leave a mark. _Let him suffer_. 

Like the smart boy he knows him to be, Yamaguchi quickly finds another way to one-up him, by sticking his hands under his pajama shirt and tickling him on his bare stomach. Something feels weird and he starts shaking his friend’s hands off him, but that’s pretty hard to do with his mouth still on his shoulder. An idea pops into his head, and he sets it into motion by touching the warm skin with his tongue, once. It catches Yamaguchi off guard, so he does it again. He tries sucking it, and there’s this deep shade of red on the boy’s cheeks that tells Kei victory is his. Yamaguchi keeps attempting to retaliate, and moves his fingers higher and higher on his chest, and the many direct, skin-on-skin points of contact between them make him feel a little dizzy, but it’s anyone’s game now. 

Someone Upstairs must really, _really_ hate him, from the bottom of their godly heart, because this is the compromising position his brother finds them in. 

They didn’t even hear the door opening, because they were too busy _fighting_ , and the man had to cough loudly in order to get their attention. Kei doesn’t detach himself from his friend, and only follows the direction of the sound with his eyes, _like a fool_. The look on Akiteru’s face is probably extraterrestrial, and it churns through his stomach, leaving only raw _shame_ behind. On top of him, Yamaguchi has shut down, and didn’t move a muscle ever since he turned his head towards the door. 

Akiteru blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, as if he wants to say something about the scene in front of him. That reminds Kei to stop _biting into Yamaguchi’s shoulder_ , and the wet sound he makes cuts through the room. 

It feels like decades, and nobody moves. Nobody talks. The boys can’t look away from the man in the doorway, and he can’t stop staring at them, eyes devoid of any light whatsoever. After half of Kei’s lifespan shriveled and died, Akiteru has the mercy to close the door and leave, but not without frowning deeply. Whatever he wanted from them will _apparently_ have to wait. 

He glances at Yamaguchi, who has his attention trained on him now, and notices that his face is flushed. The dent his teeth made in his friend’s tan shoulder is really visible, and there’s no denying that it will bruise. 

The boys stare into each other’s eyes. They’re both panting, and embarrassed, and Yamaguchi’s hands are still on Kei’s pectorals, and they start laughing. 

At their appearance downstairs, Akiteru visibly tenses. His mother eyes them both mischievously, and his father, always out of the loop, keeps reading the paper like nothing happened. When he sits down at the table, Kei notices the clock on the wall, and that they will probably be late. He tries to push the thought out of his mind as he starts picking at some omurice. His parents ask Yamaguchi about his family, and if he wouldn’t feel the weight of his brother’s gaze on him, he’d almost feel bad. 

Kei mutters ‘Thanks for the food’ and pushes his chair away from the table in the very second his father asks Yamaguchi _the worst question possible_. 

“Yamaguchi-kun, is there someone you like?” His poor, poor friend chokes on his last bite of food, and he turns his head towards him fast enough to get whiplash. 

Akiteru suddenly brightens up, and starts paying _a lot_ of attention to the boy in the limelight. The red on Yamaguchi’s face _must be_ because of the food he choked on. 

“Uh…” He surveys every Tsukishima’s expression, his eyes lingering on Kei. “Maybe,” he says, elongating the word. 

‘Maybe’? ‘ _Maybe_ ’? Who does he like? Why is he so embarrassed? What is going on? 

His father, in true Tsukishima fashion, twists the knife in the wound, by pressing the matter further. 

“What do you mean, kid?” Yamaguchi gets even more flustered, and it kinda feels like watching a car accident happen in front of his eyes, in slow motion. Why isn’t his mom, or even _Akiteru_ , trying to end this? 

“He… might not like me back.” Kei sits back and watches his thoughts evolve and multiply at breakneck speed. 

‘So it’s a boy. Is it someone on the team? Or one of our classmates? Maybe it’s someone from another team? Didn’t he look a little _too_ excited at the match against Seijou? Why didn’t he tell me? He always told me about his crushes before… Why does he think that boy wouldn’t like him back? _Who_ wouldn’t like him back?’ 

(‘Is it still Kageyama? Didn’t he get over it?’) 

His father pats Yamaguchi’s back, and the boy flinches at the unexpected contact. 

“Do you look at yourself in the mirror? You’re really handsome, and unlike my son,” Kei’s blood _conveniently_ freezes and starts boiling at the same time, “you actually have a nice personality too! You’re smart, you’re an athlete, you’re kind, you’re every boy’s dream!” 

He can’t take this anymore. Yamaguchi is encouraged to pursue this _mystery boy_ by his own family, right in front of him. He stands up, and yanks his friend away from the table by the collar of his shirt. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but us, the athletes, are running late to practice. Save the third degree for the weekend,” he spits, and the subject is dropped just like that. His mother gets them their bentos while they put their shoes on, and Yamaguchi silently thanks him for the help. 

They leave the Tsukishima house in quite the hurry, and once they’re outside, both boys start breathing normally. Kei is plugging his headphones in, when Yamaguchi elbows him. He turns to him, and there’s a small but pointed smile on his face. 

“What a morning, huh?” It’s a pretty nondescript sentence, and it might just be his imagination, but Yamaguchi’s eyes are on his mouth. The bottom of his stomach drops, and he rubs the back of his neck. 

“You can say that again,” he says, and his voice sounds pretty monotone to him. His friend hums in agreement, and they start walking. 

(On their way to school, they see a cat sleeping on a tree stump, and when Yamaguchi stops to take a photo of it, Kei’s heart grows three sizes.) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think everyone in hq had a crush on kageyama that lasted like .5 seconds  
> comments and kudos add to my lifespan btw


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